


Team RTHM

by Icarius51



Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 05:49:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2570420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icarius51/pseuds/Icarius51
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A second team year at beacon is the schools joke.</p><p>But maybe that's not truthful when it comes to their skills and powers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Team RTHM

Team RTHM is a joke. They're the weakest team by most standards in beacon. Bad grades, poor attendance, always on the losing side of the sparring match. They wear tattered and worn clothes, lots of black and blue shirts and jeans. They all have strange, unorthodox weapons, and are disruptive and rebellious. Most of the school thinks they must be sons of rich families, sent to beacon for no reason but to get them the fuck away from home.

Most of the school, teachers and students both, would be wrong.

\----------

Lunchtime. Most students are in the cafeteria. And for a moment so is RTHM. But then they're gone. Running through the corridors with the black cases of their weapons. followed by the sound of their own laughs er and munching as they down their food on the go, slamming bags of food and emptying trays of wrappers into trash can. Most students ignore them, a teacher yells slow down, and is ignored as they reach their destination. A sound proofed special instances classroom. the bust in through door, laughing and chatting as they kick the tables and chairs out of the way, sliding them to the back. And pulling out speakers from the closet. In under a minute they are plugged in and with a gesture from their leader, they begin. 

Measure is the drummer, he starts them off with a steady beat, his dust infused drumsticks leaving light trails as he begins to hammer out the beat on the floating panels around him. Each one seeming to release a burst of faint energy as it was hit.

A moment later, Heart, the bassist joins in, playing low and soft and slowly growing stronger, mixing with the drum beat to make a steady stream of power, weaving a strong spine for their power. His base was glowing softly, the curvy and mellow shape seeming to shimmer and blur as he played. 

Waiting for the right moment, the guitars stepped in, both electric and tuned to be in discord, the electric guitars of both Tempo, the discordant and crazed fingering he plays sounding like madness and the chords sounding like M.C. Escher paintings. Vividly insane. His guitar, a distinctive sharp Y shape, was seeming to crackle as he played, Adams ladders of electrical power racing between the wires under his hands, which had fingerless gloves on.

And then the second guitarist, And the leader, his chords leading to pack now, supported and supporting equally. The frontman and team leader, Rhyme. He begins to sing, the voice echoing and reverberating through the room, with the other 3 chiming in, forming a harmony as he weaves tales of woe and joy with his words. 

The song is loud, but besides the team, only one man hears it. 

Ozpin stands outside the window of the room, sipping his coffee as he listens to the beauty and soul that pours from the instruments, funneled around words that almost make him cry, and some that make him laugh, though he only chuckles.

As they finish fist one song and then several others, the sounds finally fading to be replaced with congratulatory laughter and jokes once more, he nods to himself. 

"They're ready."

\-------

"Are you insane!?! They're not fighters, hell, they're barely students at this point! Why the hell do you want to send team RTHM of all people on a level 7 mission!" Glynda was shouting at Ozpin, who simply sipped his coffee.

"Team RTHM is.. unorthodox, yes. But I believe that they are likely to be one of the most dangerous groups of people I've ever met. I have a question for you. Have you ever heard them play their instruments in a sparring match?"

Glynda paused. "...no."

"Have you ever seen them fight together, 4v4, and not attack?"

Again Glynda paused her voice curious. "...yes. that's not uncommon of their fights."

"And how many of their 432 sparring matches have they retired from halfway through, without fighting back?"

"...probably at least 425 of them."

"Yes. You see, team RTHM is strange in that their fighting style takes a moment to warm up. It needs a prelude, for lack of a better term. If you gave them 30 seconds to start a fight, they would likely win it."

Glynda was confused. "And how do you know this? As far as I know, they've never attended scheduled practice sessions in the arena."

Ozpin sipped his coffee. "I found their.... unofficial practices."

"Unofficial?"

"At lunch and after classes, they practice in the soundproof room near the north building. They do it regularly, and are consistently there. They are also the cause of the decimated clearing at the edge of the woods. that's their practice for combat."

Glynda began to understand. "So why, in almost 2 years of these students practicing, have they never fought?"

"Simple. They needed to get their set list down." Ozpin's smirk was visible as he finished his coffee.

\--------

-Team RTHM. Please report to loading dock 4 with your combat equipment at 800 hours tomorrow morning. Bring your full setup for a level 7 mission.-

The school seemed to stop as the voice over the intercom finished. And then began to whispering and wondering. Why RTHM? And a level 7? Those were usually large boards of grimm and monsters that had destroyed villages. 

Team RTHM grinned and laughed, gathering the supplies they needed for their first "live show" as they called it. In the end, they loaded 2 crates on the airship that next morning, one was 3 small generators, and fuel for 2 days of continuous running, the other a few large and loud speakers. 

At 9:04 in the morning, they left to the middle of the emerald forest.


End file.
